


didn't we almost have it all?

by arexnna



Series: lost stars [14]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Grey's Anatomy References, Slight fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arexnna/pseuds/arexnna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a grey's anatomy au of which you don't actually have to watch to understand this</p>
            </blockquote>





	didn't we almost have it all?

**Author's Note:**

> (also, Elsa's name here is Elsa Snow, so don't get confused)

It starts eight years ago as the five of them, young and wide-eyed, straight from med school, the image of saving lives every single day for the rest of time engraved into their brains as motivation to get through the next few years.

It ends with two of them, both barely standing upright by then, too tired, too broken to stand on their own – but that’s eight years later, and there’s far too much to skip—

-/-

It’s Elsa, Emma and Graham that come in together, years of medical school together making the transgression to Seattle Grace Hospital much easier. And then they meet Ruby and Killian, the former coming from Orlando and the latter from over the pond. They’d gone to the same med school as well, and Ruby shuts down the rumor both Emma and Elsa were curious about of the two of them being romantically involved almost immediately.

Each of them find their place amongst each other, every one of the five having their own past troubles that begin to hurt less and less as they grow closer.

They find out that both Killian and Ruby are orphans, parents dying at ages neither one can remember, Killian being taken cared of by his brother and Ruby by her grandmother.

Elsa and Graham are one of the same, neither content with life at home, running away to the closest relative’s home, both having made it here completely on their own.

And with Emma, her father had left when she was young, somewhere between the ages of five and seven, she can’t quite remember. Her mother, Seattle Grace’s own prized pony – Elizabeth Swan, had brought her up on her own, and having an ambitious mother as your only parent does things to a child. But it doesn’t at all mean she never appreciated what her mother had done for her, and so when a tumor in the brain had claimed her two years ago, her motivation to be as great as she was amplifies tenfold.

-/-

Initially, it’d just been the girls in Emma’s place, – her mother’s house left to her in her will – but when the boys find out how convenient the place is with only a five minute commute from there to the hospital, they find the morning carpooling slightly more cramped with five, instead of three, people in Ruby’s car.

Killian, having lost the bet of most scrub ins competing for the spare bedroom, takes up the empty space in the attic – the five of them having a field day attempting to maneuver his King-sized bed up the stairs and through the tiny door. And while laundry is never truly ever done, not to mention the food-stained dishes or the constant lack of milk in the ample cartons of diary, none of them would have it any other way.

But that of course doesn’t stop Emma and Elsa from complaining at every haphazard sock and every empty bottle of beer lying around.

-/-

The first couple of months being interns go by with minimal drama, put aside the few threats Killian makes when the jerk Ruby had been dating left without a single call or text.

And then Killian and Emma had swapped fields and she’d been put under Dr. Cassidy’s service in Cardio, and he’d been assigned under trauma with Dr. Gold (Milah _Gold of course, often mistaken for her husband_ Mr _. Gold who’s on the board_ ). And while they’d all made a pact not to get involved with anyone from the hospital, it’s exactly what the two of them do.

For Killian, he’d seen Milah as powerful, commanding and independent, and that pretty much sold him. He was head over heels within his first week and he didn’t quite know how to stand back up. And he was almost sure that his feelings weren’t unrequited, with the way she gives him that one look of hers when he does things right and how she allows him to close on patients because who in their right mind would let an intern close? But of course there was Mr. Gold, and one word from him and he could lose his place in the hospital in the matter of minutes. So, save the kiss that may or may not have transpired between them in an empty storage room one late night, he’d kept his affections to a minimal, but that didn’t stop him from ranting every alternate day over beers about _‘that imp of a man’_.

With Emma and Neal, she didn’t quite see it coming. But when an especially tiring case comes upon them, extra time is needed to be spent together and eventually, their ten minute discussions of the patient turns into an hour’s chat of _nothing_ and _that’s_ when it scares her. Besides Graham and Killian, there hasn’t been a man she’s been able to talk about _nothing_ with. He’s nice, and sweet, and he’s a good mentor, and she’s _really_ learning a lot from him and maybe cardio’s going to be her thing, and _shit_ she might really, really like him.

But then she finds out he has a girlfriend and she avoids him like the plague afterwards.

It’s good for a while, the distance keeping her head clear and her priorities straight. But when they’re announcing time of death of nineteen-year old Jessie Hart, she breaks. The irony of her last name and how they couldn’t even fix her heart isn’t lost on her, but this was supposed to be an _easy_ surgery – she’d _heard_ Neal assure Jessie’s younger brothers that she’d be okay and they’d have their sister back in no time.

But instead of waiting in her room for her to wake up, child services are being called for the two boys.

She’d been told never to get too attached to a patient, but Jessie was young, and she didn’t have parents and she was the sole guardian of her siblings, and she was such a sweet, sweet girl, so how could she not find herself growing attached?

So when she’d heard the long beeps echoing through the operation room, Neal calling the time of death, she falls.

And he’s there to catch her.

He brings her to an empty on-call room, leads her to sit on the bed and when she cries against his chest, he holds her. And when he holds her, she doesn’t think, throwing all caution to the wind, leaning straight into his touch and just _feeling_. He’s tender and he’s caring, murmuring ‘ _It’ll get better’_ s in her ear as his hands move over her body, and in one stupid, naïve moment, she believes him.

When she wakes, he’s gone.

The irrational part of her brain tells her that he’d gotten a page and didn’t want to wake her up, but she’s a light sleeper and if he’d really cared, he would’ve probably left her a message.

It’s a day later after her day off and she doesn’t see him for the whole day, Dr. Booth acting as the head for the day. And while she’s yearning to know where he really is, she doesn’t ask – almost scared of the answer.

She has every right.

If there’s one thing Seattle Grace lacks in, it’s definitely not the speed news travels. So, two minutes after it falls from the first person’s lips, she catches it.

_‘Dr. Cassidy and his girlfriend are expecting!’_

And almost as though the world has a personal vendetta against her, it gets better. They’re moving back to Tamara’s home where he can start up a practice, so that they can be close to her family.

When it hits her, it hits her. But Ruby’s there with her and she jumps into her role right away, bitching about how he wasn’t even worth it and that she could do better and that they’re going out for drinks tonight to forget about the whole thing.

And that’s exactly what they do. Ruby, Graham and her leaving earlier while Elsa and Killian arrive an hour later once their shifts are over, designated driver being trusted upon Killian ( _and not Elsa, surprisingly)_.

She wakes up with a dry throat, a pounding in her head and apparently lying in the wrong bed. It takes her a moment, but she’s in Ruby’s room, the brunette herself lying dead asleep on top of what looks like – _ah_ , Killian.

“Psst,” she hears a hissing, but the source is unknown – then again, she had drunk quite a lot, but, “ _Swan_?”  
She pushes herself upright and leans over Ruby, finding Killian very much trapped underneath her. It’s quite a sight, how rigid he is under her touch, the look on his face the picture of discomfort. She stifles a laugh, and he shoots her a glare.

“Give me a hand, will you?” he hisses, and through muted chuckles, she helps him pry her entangled arms off of him and slipping a pillow in his place once he’s safe.

“Lord, I’ve been awake for an hour thinking of a way to get out without waking her,” he lets out a relieved sigh as they move out towards the shared bathroom.

“And why didn’t you just – I don’t know, push her off?”

“I am a gentleman before I am anything, love,” he grins, reaching over for his toothbrush as she searches the shelves for an Advil, earning a scoff from her. “Plus, she’s a light sleeper, and she’s been on her feet for the past 36 hours.”

The implication of them having ( _literally_ ) slept together before is there, and it takes her by surprise because Ruby _did_ clear up that nothing had ever gone on between them, and with scrunched up brows, “ _Wait_ , did you- have you guys—”

“ _Gods no!_ ” he jumps at the suggestion, assuring her with several hundred shakes of his head, “Ruby’s like a little sist—okay, _not_ a little sister – I’ve checked her out too many time for that, but she’s –“ he pauses a while, stringing his thoughts into proper sentences, “If anyone were to hurt her, I’d kill them – that’s what we are.”

“You’d do good together, the two of you,” she nods at him and towards the door they’d come in from with a soft smile.

“Yeah?” he asks and it seems like he’s considering it for a minute.

“I ship it,” she prods just knowing how much the word itself riles.

“You didn’t just say that.”

“I see it now – _Ru-llian_ or, or maybe _Kill-by – oh! Kill-y!_ ”

“Ha ha,” he deadpans, pushing her out of the bathroom and leading them into the kitchen.

She settles nicely in the stool by the counter as he pours her a mug of coffee, moving around to prepare breakfast, and she does not intend on lifting a finger to help. It is, after all, his morning for breakfast, and hers is on Tuesday, so till then, she isn’t touching a single thing.

“I’d kill for both you and Elsa too, you know,” he mentions in passing, cracking an egg into the pan, not bothering to face her, and she knows he means he’d beat the shit out of Neal if she’d asked.

“I know,” she replies just as casually. “If it matters – I would fight Milah if it came to that.”

He turns and she’s utterly pleased at how a grin spreads across his face, having to bite his lower lip in order not to smile too wide.

“It does.”

-/-

They make it out of their intern year surprisingly alive, the five of them ready to brave the next five years as residents.

They’re told to start early, find a field they enjoy and practice it until they know they can’t hate it, making sure there wouldn’t be any regrets later on.

It happens at the end of their first year, with Elsa fidgeting between Ortho and Peds, Graham very much happy with Neuro after being unable to handle the pressures of Trauma, Ruby being content in Plastics, and Killian and Emma, _well_ , they’re pretty much just floating around. It’s the biggest thing Trauma has had to handle, making last month’s bus accident seeming miniscule. The rush of paramedics arrive before it reaches the news, the image of the incredible sinkhole flashing from several news channels over the screens scattered through the first floor, and then all hands are on deck and there’s a surge of urgency through the hospital. With Emma working Trauma for the week, she braces herself for the day ahead, faking a confidence as she takes the gurney from the paramedic and pushes through to the ER.

 _“Crush injury, and a broken pelvis!”_ Matthews reports, Gold nodding quickly as they lift the patient onto the table.

“Page Whale, _now!”_ she orders a nurse, turning to Emma, apparently believing she’s Elsa, “Snow – go outside and offer your help where it’s needed, because it’s _not_ needed here,” the woman snaps, and now wouldn’t really be the time to correct her on her name, right?

She finds Killian outside, waiting by the emergency bay for the next ambulance to arrive.

“Not needed?”

“Yup.”

“Gold’s a pain in the ass, by the—“

And just as she speaks of the devil, the devil speaks right back.

“We _need_ Whale here – and here is where he’s staying,” the tone she uses is one similar to the one she’d used against Emma, and while she may not be her favourite person, she has to admit that the woman has balls to speak like that to Mills.

“Well there are a _dozen_ people out there who need him right now,” Dr. Mills snaps right back, “As much as you don’t like it – _I’m_ the Chief, so when I say—“

 _“Hey!”_ Whale interrupts, stepping in and stopping Regina from whatever she was going to say in an attempt to pull rank against the other doctors, “Right now, this is my patient, and she needs me – I’ll come once this is settled, so take a goddamn resident,” his voice is firm and there’s nothing else to be said.

“ _Fine_ – Williams, you’re coming—“ and just as he’s about to jump at the opportunity—

“Take Jones,” both Whale and Gold say simultaneously.

“I need an orthopedic—“

“He’s worked under me,” Whale deadpans, just as Milah says, “He’s good with Trauma.”

Regina doesn’t argue anymore, knowing how her newly appointed position had already shaken things up with her colleagues, turning to find Killian and nodding at him.

She watches as he and Milah hold eye contact for just about a second before he’s moving away towards the ambulance and Emma catches his hand, “ _Hey_ – good luck out there,” she wishes, and he sends her a tight lipped smile with a nod and then he disappears into the ambulance.

There’s a nagging feeling in her that something’s going to go wrong, and she already knows what he’ll say, how there’s nothing to be worried about and that he’ll just be in and out.

But she’s usually right when it comes to these things, so she prays she’s wrong.

-/-

There’s a kid – barely passed her eighth birthday, whose hair is tied in one messy ponytail, whose teddy bear is stained with blood and dirt, whose mother lays trapped in the overturned car right next to her.

He barely hears his orders, overlooking the massive hole in the ground as he’s being harnessed, his head nodding on its own volition. He’s told to get the kid out first, make her the priority and only then to help the mother out.

And that’s exactly what he does.

So when they tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he was just following orders, and that he shouldn’t take the load, he doesn’t tell them how if he’d _just_ moved faster, _thought_ better, _listened_ clearer, the girl wouldn’t be an orphan.

He doesn’t tell anyone except Ruby, knowing that she wouldn’t fight him on it. And she doesn’t – she just holds him until his eyes get too tired, her hand stroking his hair until she hears his breath evening out.

Emma goes into his room to check up on him, finding him asleep lying in Ruby’s arms and she smiles at Emma, mouthing _‘he’s okay’_ at her and she nods back. She’s got him handled and it isn’t her place, so she leaves them to it.

And she’s not jealous, because there isn’t any reason to be. And if she were jealous, _which she isn’t_ , they’re close friends and they’ve known each other longer than she’s knows him and that’s why he seeks comfort in her.

_Right?_

-/-

She hooks up with Graham.

And _no_ – it has little ( _note how she’d said ‘little’ and not ‘nothing’_ )to do with the fact that Ruby and Killian had come out as a _thing_. Again, she isn’t jealous, and she assures both Elsa and herself that it doesn’t affect her and that she’s extremely happy for them. Both herself and Elsa pretend like they believe it.

They say they’re just having fun, and that it’s nothing serious, but with the way he looks at her, she can’t not admit that she doesn’t wish _someone_ would look at her like that too.

So when Graham’s having an equally bad day, with _Chief_ Mills ( _as they’ve been told to call her now_ ) a pain in his ass, they go out for drinks at Joe’s. And one beer leads to another, and the next thing she knows, she’s in his bed.

They find out that they don’t work quite well together, not when once they’re lying considerably sated, she blurts out, “I think I like Killian.”

“What every man wants to hear after having sex.”

“ _Oh God –_ I’m sorry! I just—“

“I’m having sex with Regina.”

_What?_

“ _What?”_ she jerks up, pulling his duvet up around her, resulting in his body being less covered and for a second she notices a wolf inked onto the skin of his ankle, but now’s not the time to ask when that had happened, so she makes a mental note to ask him about it later, jumping back into the original problem. “Regina _Mills?_ As in _Chief Mills?”_ she asks incredulously.

He jumps up and covers her mouth with his hand, trying to shut her up but she just dodges it and continues giving him an unbelieving look. “ _Shh_ , okay? You’re the first one to find out,” he shushes her, shooting her a dirty look at her shocked expression. “And _yes_ , _that_ Regina.”

“Then _why the fuck_ did you have sex with me?” she hissed accusingly, pushing at his chest, but he barely budges an inch.

“Why did _you_ sleep with me?”

“I- I don’t know! To convince myself that I don’t like him – _God,_ I don’t know!” she hits him again, and this time, despite the lack of force used, he falls back on the bed with a long sigh, and a moment later, she follows.

“Maybe that’s what I was doing too.”

“Did it work?”

“ _Nope._ You?”

“We’re one of the same, Humbert.”

They let out sighs at the same time, both long and breathy and tired.

“But we’ll be okay, right?”

“Of course.”

-/-

She okay. Seeing the both of them happy together, how can she not be? She’s not willing to allow some petty crush to ruin her friendships. And after a while, she grows to be _genuinely_ happy for them.

Both Elsa and Graham applaud her on her maturity, and she must say, that she’s awfully proud of herself as well.

Graham on the other hand – he’s not okay.

With the merger between Seattle Grace and Mercy West, a bunch of new people filter in. That, including one Robin Locksley.

Things change since the merger, ( _one of those being the name: ‘Seattle Grace Mercy West Hospital’_ ) for the first time in almost a year, he’s off Mills’ service, joining Ortho under Whale. He tries not to think anything of it, but when the booty calls get less and less frequent and the sights of her and Robin around the hospital get more and more common, he can’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy.

He’d known from the start that what they had was nothing more than just casual, and in the beginning, he’d been okay with that. But _God_ , the woman was fire, and he reveled in the flames. Then with the arrival of the Mercy West-ers, she’d made it abundantly clear that he was really nothing more than a warm bed.

He doesn’t act on his jealousy, instead burying himself in work, until soon he’s being dubbed Whale’s prodigy.

She notices it too – _Emma,_ not Regina – catches how his eyes linger on her as she laughs with Robin, how those eyes are shadowed and tired. But she doesn’t say anything, allowing him to come to when he’s ready, sending him rueful looks when his eyes meet hers after pulling his stare away from his ex ( _girlfriend? Lover? She doesn’t quite know what label their relationship identified with_ ), telling him that _she’s here for him_.

His smiles don’t quite reach his eyes anymore, his hair messy in the remains of what his fingers have ran through, and honestly, he’s let himself go.

She notices all these things, and she wants to yell at Regina, scream at her for hurting her friend. But even if she wasn’t the Chief and her job wouldn’t be in danger, it isn’t her place.

He tells her he’s okay, sending her a reassuring smile, but neither one of them believe it.

-/-

It’s two months later when he announces that he’s joining the military.

What he tells them is that they’re looking for doctors for the frontline, ready to patch up the injured soldiers, and that he’s been considering for the last couple of weeks. What he doesn’t tell them is that it just hurts too much to see Regina happy, especially when the person who’s making her happy isn’t him. He doesn’t mention how he hates being Whale’s star boy and work isn’t actually that great. He doesn’t tell them all of this, but with the hard look Emma gives him, he knows she knows.

None of them quite know what to say, the four of them unsure if he’s playing a belated April Fool’s prank on them ( _he’s never quite been good with jokes_ ), but it’s Killian that steps in and pats him on the back, tells him that he’s proud of him. Elsa leaps up to hug him next, whispering several _‘be safe’s_ and _‘you take care’s_ in his ear, and he laughs it off saying he’s not leaving until the next week. She hugs him tighter.

Ruby’s tentative, a sad look on her face as she pulls him into her arms and kisses his cheek.

Emma leaves.

He seeks her out later at night, hoping time would’ve allowed her to cool down, but she’s just as furious as when he’d broke the news.

“You’re a coward!” she yells at him, pushing him away when he comes closer. He doesn’t fight it, stumbling back until his knees hit the vanity in her room. “You’re _running away_ because she’s found someone else, so why don’t you just _grow up_ and _move on!”_

Her stare is fierce and fiery, tears brimming her eyes and he just wants to wrap her in his arms. “This _is_ me moving on, Emma,” his voice is gravelly, eyes boring into hers with every bit of sincerity he can muster up for her to believe him. “Don’t you see? I can’t just sit around here moping for her, when there’s so much more- so many more people I can help,” he pleads with her, trying to get her to understand. “I hate to leave you, but I have to do this – _please_ understand.”

She gazes at him, the look in her eyes tired and pained, and with a single tear rolling down the side of her face, “I can’t.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

-/-

They urge her to reconcile, that ‘ _he’s leaving in three days – who knows when you’re going to see him next?’_ and while she knows they’re right, the thought of him running off to danger because a girl doesn’t want him makes him sick to her stomach.

The temptation to yell at Regina resurfaces, but she holds it down. It doesn’t stop her from staring daggers at her every time she passes by, though.

And she’s not deliberately avoiding him, just turning the other way when she sees him in the hallways and finding she’s not so hungry when she goes to the kitchen to see him sitting there with Elsa.

But they’re right, after three days God knows when she’ll see him again, and she sucks up her pride, and seeks him out.

He doesn’t berate her, his kind eyes forgiving and he wraps her in his arms much like he’d intended to initially. She says she’s sorry, mutters words of love and care and he says them right back.

She’s losing her best friend and she has no say in it, helpless in trying to make him stay.

She overly coddles him, making sure he doesn’t forget anything, his passport, his money, his charger and just when he’s about to leave the house, she makes him promise to keep safe, call her when he lands and especially, not to do anything too heroic.

He mutters an exaggerated _‘yes, mum,’_ in her ear when it’s her turn to be embraced, his hold tight on her as hers is with him, and for a moment she’s unwilling to let go, not ready for him to leave.

“I’ll be okay, so don’t you guys dare cry,” he says when he’s walking away, turning back to face them and Elsa can’t help the hand that swipes away her tear, “And I’m talking to you, Jones,” Graham points directly at Killian who’s arm is wrapped around Ruby’s waist with her head on his shoulder ( _and Emma ignores the flash of jealousy that runs through her_ ).

“Of course I’m going to cry, Humbert – I’m going to have to befriend Scarlet if I still want someone to watch _proper_ football with a mate,” he grins back, but even from here Emma can see how his eyes are shiny.

Graham chuckles, deep and hearty and so very Graham-like ( _another thing Emma decides to put on the list of what she’s going to miss about Graham_ ), shaking his head, smiling back at all of them.

“I’ll be back, alright?”

-/-

There’s a John Doe, coming in with a heavily bruised face, a fracture to his skull, an epidural bleed and far too many other injuries one man should be able to handle. A woman follows soon after him, _‘Is he okay?’_ ringing from shaky yells as his wife tries chasing him, though being held back by several nurses telling her she needs to be checked out as well.

They find out through Elsa’s questioning that John Doe and the woman aren’t in fact married at all, in fact, as opposite as it could possibly.

“He’d- he’d pushed me out of the way, and I just- everything happened so fast,” the woman – _Alicia,_ they find out is her name – sobs with stuttered words as Ruby stitched the lacerations on her arm, the only mark that had scathed her while her savior hangs from the line. “I don’t even know his name.”

The story feeds around the hospital within minutes, dubbing him a hero, saving a woman he barely knows and how it could very well be the most romantic love stories to come, but Emma only sees the man as a martyr. He’d been _dragged_ by a bus - for far too long for him to be able to keep breathing - for a woman he _doesn’t even know_.

She doesn’t see the reasoning behind his actions, wondering what kind of hero complex this man must’ve had, how irritatingly selfless he must’ve been ( _still is – his time is not up yet, and for the sake of Alicia’s conscience, she hopes his time is far from over_ ).

He’s a tough case, needing nearly five surgeons of different fields, three crash carts and at least one nurse watching him at every given moment, for him to make it through the night.

She finds him a curious thing, this man who’s willing to sacrifice his life for a stranger, and she wonders if he’d known his act of bravery would’ve led to this. She visits him in the dead hours of the night ( _\- okay, ‘dead’ may just be the wrong word to use, but—_ ), when much of the staff’s days are over, the few remaining unlucky ones stuck with their night shifts being the only ones left. Emma drags the chair close to the bed, the soft beeps telling her that he’s still breathing and for some odd pull, she’s relieved. They all know it’ll take a miracle for him to survive the next surgery, if he’s even going to really make it through the night, but he was dragged for miles and he survived, and she’s almost sure he can make it through this.

When his eyes open, she jerks up – it’s the second time he’s been conscious since coming into the hospital. He makes a crackling sound and after a moment of confusion, _he wants to say something_. The tubes in his mouth are preventing his speech, but his eyes are insistent in telling her.

She fiddles for her notepad for his fingers are moving and she places the pen into his hand for him to write it out, but he is far from strong enough and it falls straight down from his loose grasp.

“What are you trying to say?” she wonders, analyzing every limited move he makes, trying to decipher what he’s trying to say. “ _Here_ ,” she turns her palm out flat for him, taking his hand and placing it on hers for him to trace his words out. “Write,” she says, demonstrating with her own hand.

His moves are slow and calculative, and even dosed up with all the medicine, the pain he must be feeling is likely unbearable. But instead of tracing letters onto her palm, his own fingers move to hers, pushing her pinkie down with little force. She follows his movements, helping him out to curl her finger as he’s asking her to. Her ring finger, the middle and her thumb are next, and her hand’s pointing now and _she finally gets it_. His hand directs hers straight and glancing back at him, she doesn’t quite know what she’s pointing at, no one stands outside the glass doors opposite them, but then her eyes catch movement under the blanket where his feet lie beneath.

“Your foot?”

He gives her a hard blink, releasing her hand and she moves slowly towards the end of the bed. She lifts the blanket off his legs, and with searching eyes, she finally sees—

“Graham?”

-/-

He has a re-bleed, and with that last blink he gives her, they’re rushing him right back into surgery. She’s left in his room, the commotion leaving with him as they wheel him into an O.R., and she’s frozen for exactly a minute before she collapses in a heap of tears.

A nurse ( _Marian_ , she vaguely recognizes) offers to bring her to an on call room, but she refuses, asking to be brought to where _he_ is. She doesn’t argue, leading her towards the viewing gallery, watching from above as they prep the O.R. for his surgery. She scarcely remembers asking Marian to page Dr. Jones, Snow and Lucas with an SOS, but when they show up with identical confused faces, she almost considers not telling them.

(She makes sure no one else knows – no one outside this circle gets word, because down there is one of their own, and she knows the consequences that may as well occur at the thought of operating on a personal relation. And as she watches Mills walk into the operating theatre, the woman who’d caused him to run away in the first place, she especially doesn’t tell them)

“How do you know?” Killian speaks up first, his voice in complete denial and she doesn’t blame him.

“John Doe had- _has_ a tattoo – a wolf tattoo on his right ankle.”

That’s all the proof she gives, and that’s all is needed for Ruby to collapse into the chair next to her, for Elsa to hug herself disbelievingly and for Killian to slip down against the wall.

She feels Ruby shaking when she pulls her for a hug, muttered words of _‘I was in there – I operated on him’_ falling from her shivering lips, and Emma cannot offer anything in return for her friend.

“I should’ve known.”

-/-

The service is beautiful.

That’s a lie. She’s never quite understood it when people would say that, because how can one’s death ever be beautiful?

Most of the hospital shows up, even some of the nurses that’s barely even worked with him comes.

Killian does the eulogy, and _his words_ are beautiful. She watches how he tries not to break, but hears how his voice cracks at every sweet anecdote he tells.

Graham’s aunt shows up, the same one he’d gone running away to, along with his mother. It’s the first time she’s met any one of his family, and despite the history she knows went down between them, she hugs them both when they say who they are.

“Graham was a hero,” she tells them, putting on a brave façade while the rest of her just keeps breaking.

-/-

After the funeral, she explodes, words of blame thrown at Regina and no one stops her, not even the woman herself. It’s her fault, after all – had she not played with his heart, he wouldn’t have felt the need to leave, he wouldn’t have been there when the bus was coming their way.

When she’s let it all out, silence fills the mourning hospital floor around them, and she can feel the eyes watching the scene that’s played out. Robin comes and pulls Regina aside, _“I’m truly sorry,”_ on her lips as she’s being led away.

She can’t tell if she believes it or not.

-/-

(They try not to talk of him anymore, not to forget, but simply because it hurts too much, though with the vacant room that rightfully now belongs to Killian remains, words of how he used to make his humourless jokes are muttered in reminiscing voices around their breakfast table.)

(Eventually, his death affects them all differently.

Ruby blames herself for not knowing sooner, pulling away from Killian’s already absent touches, and secluding herself. Killian doesn’t come home often, his mind almost always a distant away when he does. He buries himself in work, and goes off to the bar afterwards, usually coming home with the strong smell of rum on him.

(Ruby and him break up on amiable terms not soon after, both claiming that Graham’s death had taken a toll on the relationship and that they were too good as best friends that as a couple, there was nothing new to find out)

Emma doesn’t let herself cry, she’s just a little dead inside, as on the outside she allows herself to wear the hoodie he’d once left in her room. She doesn’t let herself cry because tears make her tired and she’s already too fatigued as it is.

But Elsa’s cries are heard from her room almost every night she sleeps at home, and while the sobs are tiring to all their ears, none of them say a word about it. She needs this as much as Ruby needs her space, as much as Killian needs his rum and as much as Emma just needs her best friend back.)

-/-

She’s having a worse week than usual - with the idea of her father being in town is one thing, but when he’s here asking for her liver she pretty much has the urge to fling herself off the nearest building.

“You okay?” Killian bumps his shoulder against her, pulling her out of her exaggerated suicidal thoughts, his mouth quirking into a soft smile.

“Do I look okay?” she snaps and she immediately regrets the sharp tone the moment it slips from her tongue.

He doesn’t take offense of course, he never does, always understanding why she acts the way she acts and why she does what she does. His face softens more than she knew possible, sending her a contemplative look.

“You look great,” he shrugs, lips into a playful smile.

She lets out a breath at that, the feeling of all her worries being lifted off with just a small smile ( _his_ small smile). She can’t help the turn of her lips, she’s never quite liked how easily it’s always been for him to just turn things around for her, how he makes her smile with little to no effort.

“Then I’m okay.”

-/-

(She’s not a match for her father, and while she hates the life out of him, he’s her _father_ and she’s not just going to let him die)

(It takes a few days, but with his condition, he makes it to the top of the list, earning priority, and then _there’s a match_ )

(She tries not to think about the boy who’d been shot in his own home trying to stop a robber from taking anything, so she doesn’t – doesn’t think about how a _hero_ is giving her unworthy, deadbeat father his liver, doesn’t imagine the loss his parents are going through at the thought of their 17 year old dying. She pushes aside the thought of how undeserving he is, but again, he is her father, so just thinks about how he’ll be _alive_ )

-/-

They’re in third year, almost five months after the accident, when she meets him.

The first time they meet, he tells her he’s been through thirty different surgeries and that he’s going to propose to his girlfriend.

The second time they meet, he tells her she’d rejected him, but when she offers her condolences, he shrugs it off, telling her he’d only been doing it to get more life insurance for his next surgery. She can’t tell if he knows he sounds like a total asshole, or not, but she can’t help the small laugh that comes out.

The fourth time they meet, it’s in City Hall and they’re getting married.

Killian’s there as their witness and while she knows how he feels about this ( _“You’re mad, Lucas! Why can’t you help people out the_ normal _way instead of marrying them to give them your life insurance!”_ ), but he comes anyway, and she remembers why she loved him in the first place. But Peter’s a good guy and he’s funny and while she may not love him, he doesn’t deserve to die because he can’t afford another surgery.

Their arrangement starts of simple – they’re to get married, get the documents legalized and that’d be it, they’d live their lives normally as they’re supposed to.

But after his surgery, she visits him more and more at his place, bringing him take-out and (attempting to) cook for him.

It’s not soon before she falls for his charm and his smile and the way his eyes light at when she shows up at his door.

She knows how they all feel about it – Killian remaining in disapproval (stuck in his big brother complex), Emma finding it quite ironic like her life’s some sort of romcom, and Elsa is genuinely happy for her ( _but then again, Elsa is genuinely happy for everyone_ ).

Ruby also knows that he feels for her as much as she does for him, and the impulsiveness she’s always had takes action, and then they’re more than just married in name.

She’d been scared at first, since he’s such a risk to associate herself with, with his medical history and in any moment he could just crash and be gone form her life. And that’s one thing she’d learned from Graham.

But she’s also learned that if she doesn’t grasp what’s within reach, that in a moment, it could be taken away from her.

She loves him more than she knew she could ever love anyone, and it’s a new thing, a fresh thing, and she loves everything about it.

Then she comes back later than usual on a Thursday, finds him with his back facing her and his body towards the sink and when he turns around, he’s bleeding far too much for it to be a nosebleed.

It’s his heart this time, they tell her, and they page Dr. Booth almost immediately. Her own heart thumping fast in her chest and not soon after, her friends are here holding her hand as they push him into surgery.

“You saved my life once, you’re doing it again,” Peter smiles up at her. “I love you, okay?”

“I love you, too,” is all she can offer back, pressing a wet kiss to his lips.

-/-

It’s almost a year and a half after her first loss when she feels the stab of another one. She doesn’t let them hold her this time, refusing to be dependent on anyone else if they’re just going to leave.

So instead, she leaves.

They try to coax her into staying, telling her that they’ll go through this together, but it’s not them that’s just lost the love of their lives.

Ruby avoids the pained look in Killian’s eyes, refusing to let him guilt her into staying, because God knows who it’s going to be next time – next time, it could be death she’s avoiding to look at in Killian’s eyes instead.

Emma fights for her to stay, but her tough words aren’t going to be able to work on her this time, and instead she just forces a hug on Emma’s resisting body. Elsa tells her to take care, asks her to call every few days from wherever she’s at and she promises she will.

She doesn’t say goodbye to Killian and she knows that they both with regret it later, but she leaves anyway, refusing to look back at the place where too many happy memories were taken away.

-/-

Emma finds comfort in Booth, and for the first time, she can actually say it’s nothing more than that. He’s grown to be a good friend and a better mentor, making her actually begin liking cardio once more. 

She thinks about how much time she’s wasted on avoiding what she was good at just because of one asshole, and thanks to August, she actually does begin to appreciate cardio as much as she once did.

She knows half the hospital thinks they’re dating, but he’s got a kid he doesn’t want people to know about and she still may or may not be crushing on Killian, ( _she knows – pathetic_ ) so they allow rumors to fly and neither confirm nor deny the gossip.

She’s screwed up far too many friendships with men ( _either falling into bed with them, or falling in love_ ) and she’s not willing to lose this friendship to anything stupid.

-/-

They’re at the front desk, their chins propped up on their fists mirroring each other as they stare at Allison Stone, lying asleep in the hospital bed as four men shoot glares at each other.

“I wonder what it’s like to be so _loved_ ,” she thinks out loud, not quite filtering through her thoughts as she speaks. Elsa and Killian turn towards her, giving her curious looks, “I mean – look at her. Four guys are waiting by her side for her to wake up and none of them know who she’s going to pick, or even if she’s going to remember any one of them! It’s an interesting sight,” she muses.

Elsa hums, nodding at that before facing back to stare at the scene.

“Come now, Swan – you should know what it feels like,” Killian nudges her arm, her head slipping off and she throws him an annoyed look with a scoff, before turning around to sit on the counter instead. “I’m serious!”

“Nice one, Jones – mock my lack of a love life,” she remarks, crossing her arms over her chest, arching an eyebrow at his comment.

He huffs at that, “Says the woman who may or may not be in a relationship with one Dr. August Booth,” Killian wiggles his eyebrow animatedly, his smirk dropping as he shrugs when he mentions, “Besides, I’d know – I was practically in love with you.”

“ _Hey_ , I told you that there’s nothing— wait, _what?”_

“Yeah,” his voice is casual as he turns to face her, leaning against the surface with his hands placed on the counter by his sides. “Pretty much half of intern year and most of first year.”

Her eyes flit towards Elsa, a silent ask whether she’d known about it, but the woman has slipped smoothly away into the chair with an unconvincing focus on the computer screen as she fiddles with the mouse with a bowed head, avoiding eye contact at all costs. “ _Why didn’t you tell me?_ ” her mouth stays partly open, mind still processing the new information.

“I thought you knew,” he shrugs, and _can he not be so_ casual _about this?_ “Didn’t want to seem like an arse forcing my feelings down your throat when you clearly didn’t feel the same.”

She rubs her forehead, the overwhelming information causing an overdrive in her mind, getting her to think: _was she really that blind?_ “Oh _God_ , I’m sorry! I didn’t—“

“It’s fine, love!” he jumps up and grabs her arms with his hands, shaking her lightly as if to get her to calm down, his smile bright as his stare glistens her way, “It’s in the past anyway.”

He’s far too close in proximity for her, and she forces on a smile that she feels is on the edge of cracking, telling herself that it doesn’t hurt that he _doesn’t_ feel for her like that _anymore_. “It’s funny ‘cause back then I kinda—“

_Beep beep._

Her face contorts into a cringe when she hears the interrupting pager go off, and when she opens her eyes, he’s looking worriedly at the black device in his hands.

“ _Bloody hell_ – we’ll talk about this later,” he squeezes her arm and sends her a smile, “My patient’s crashing and I—“

“ _Go_ ,” she urges, pushing him away and he races off to his patient, leaving her contemplating and slightly irritated ( _mostly with herself, partly with him, and entirely with timing_ ).

Emma muses what life might’ve been like had she just _realised_ that he might’ve actually liked her, that maybe they could’ve been Seattle Grace’s power couple and that so much shit that’s happened since then could’ve been avoided (- _like maybe Graham wouldn’t have died, or maybe Ruby wouldn’t have left_ ) but it’s wishful thinking and while she’s never quite believed in _fate_ , she has a feeling the Universe would have a way of playing things out.

She squeezes her face into the palms of her hands, pressing until she sees stars because right now, with this frustration, it’s all she can do.

“ _Oooh_ ,” Elsa lets out sympathetically, “ _That_ was rough.”

She turns towards her friend who sits with her legs crossed and the side of her head laying propped on her fist, an apologetic look on her face, but Emma only returns an annoyed glare her direction. “Did you know?”

“If I say yes, will you give me a 10 second head start before chasing me down?”

She jumps off the counter and steps towards her, Elsa responding in a leap off the chair and her arms held defensively up in a show of surrender, “ _What the fuck, Elsa?_ You were supposed to be on _my_ side! It’s been like five years and you didn’t think of mentioning it to me _once_?”

She jerks her head back at the accusation, “ _He_ asked me to _promise_! And you _know_ how seriously I take promises!”

“Elsa! What the hell happened to girl code, or like—”

“And both he and I agreed it was too soon after Neal,” she cuts in quickly, effectively stopping Emma in whatever else she was going to rage about. She recoils at the name, and while he might not have been a present fixture of much of her life in Seattle Grace, back then, it’d felt like he was everything. “You weren’t ready.”

She’s right, of course. She wasn’t ready until she’d gotten wind of the whole Ruby/Killian relationship, and by then, timing had fucked with her and of course she was too late.

“You would’ve ran, and both you and I know that – _he_ knows it,” Elsa’s approach is calmer this time, and she can’t help but sigh in defeat of her words. “If we’d told you, you might not be here anymore, _not_ with him by your side, at least.”

She nods solemnly, accepting what she’s saying, finding it futile to fight. “I would’ve ran,” she agrees.

-/-

It’s in fifth year when both Elsa and Killian find their true callings, Elsa in fetal, and Killian in peds. It’s not surprising Killian’s good with children – she’s seen it first hand, and she can’t help but notice that it’s an extreme turn on when she sees him fist bumping his patients or ruffling their hair.

He’s finally found his place, and she can’t be happier for him. He also can’t look any more attractive having found it.

-/-

They’re sipping their beers, sitting with him while he watches _his_ football. Elsa’s still at the hospital even though their shifts ended an hour prior, but she’d insisted on Emma going home first, her suspicions of her having a secret boyfriend increasing.

“Would you believe me if I told you that that guy,” he points at the screen, some kid in a red jersey with far too many tattoos on his arms for her liking, “has two kids?”

“No way – _he’s_ a kid. What is he? _Twenty?”_

“Twenty-three,” Killian shrugs.

They watch in a comfortable silence for a while, but even _if_ she were interested in this football the least, the game would pretty much still be boring.

“I want a kid,” she muses, and it’s just a passing thought, expecting just a crooked smile and a _‘one day, Swan’_ from him before he turns his attentions back to the screen.

“Then let’s get one.”

“What?” he tilts his body more to her on the couch, his face bright and she knows he’s just got an idea boiling in that pretty head of his. “This isn’t just another cat you can buy _impulsively_ from the pet store, Jones.”

(Speaking of – last week, he’d come back with the smallest white kitten possible, his reason being _‘it was too adorable’_ , and she was honestly going to get him to give it back, but with his _and_ the feline’s blue eyes staring back at her with pleading looks, she’d be lying if she said she tried.)

“Why not?” he seems genuinely surprised at her, “There’s a nursery _full_ of babies on the third floor – babies without parents or a place to go.”

She doesn’t believe she’s actually considering it, but he’s right – there are kids who are unwanted and most likely be thrown into foster homes, and she’s almost sure that she could be a great parent for any one of them ( _an even better one with Killian by her side_ ). But she snaps out of it because adoption agencies don’t give babies to single people, and she’s far from getting married, as far as she knows.

“You’re crazy.”

“I am,” he admits, “But we’d make great parents, is all I’m saying,” he shrugs.

“Stealing a baby doesn’t seem like a good first step to being good parents, Killian.”

“ _Actually_ , it means we’d go to great lengths—“ he stops mid-sentence of his most likely convoluted reasoning, but his eyes brighten more and _oh no_ , “ _Swan_ , what say – if you and I are still single when we’re forty, we get married?”

She stares blankly at him, because she knows for one thing that he’s quite serious about this. “You’re kidding.”

“ _No!_ I’m not! I mean it, we’d make a great couple – I’d make a wonderful trophy husband for you to have around your arm as you win your second Harper Avery Award, and then I wouldn’t mind working under you,” _– he winks here –_ “and I could be the house husband! Making food, taking care of our kids, of which will be a mixture of both ours and the ones we’ve adopted and _we could be the Branjelina of the medical world!”_

“Right, I’m admitting you into the psych ward tomorrow.”

“I’m serious, Swan – we make a great team, who’s to say we won’t make a great couple?”

She wonders if he knows what he’s saying means to her – that him saying this means far more to her than just a mere pact, and that his words make her stomach twist in an attempt to shoo those butterflies away.

So instead, she says, “Don’t you think forty’s a bit too old to start a family?”

His smile is beautiful at her words and she’s never wanted to lean in just a little bit and kiss him more than now, “How does thirty-five sound to you?”

-/-

He should have landed by now, should be calling her by now, but he isn’t and it doesn’t sit well with her, the not knowing, and maybe she’s just being paranoid, because that’s at least what Elsa tells her.

“He didn’t have time to call, maybe – he’s probably in the O.R. right now,” Elsa assures, patting her soft on her back before she runs off towards her newly introduced boyfriend, which also happens to be the fourth floor’s most sought after male-nurse.

She guesses she’s right, but since Graham, she’s doesn’t take these things lightly.

And she’s right not to.

It’s two days later when the rescue team finds them, words of a death reaching the ears of fellow Seattle Grace-ers and something in her worries that it’s him. They’ve been brought to the nearest hospital, and that’s where Emma, Elsa and a couple other doctors including Mills and Nolan are headed.

Elsa, ever the optimist, tells her that the probability of Killian being dead is one sixth a chance, but she’s wrong, if he’s the _one_ , then his chances are 100 percent. She doesn’t know how her friend can still stand to comfort her with reassuring words because all Emma can do now is breakdown and it’s later that she realizes that she’s only being strong since Emma can’t be strong for herself.

It’s insensitive, selfish, cruel, _you name it_ – for her to wish death on others so that _he’s_ safe, but he’s all that matters to her right now and selflessness has never quite been her greatest quality.

When they reach the hospital, there’s an eerie quiet and with each echoing step she takes, it a step closer to Killian’s fate. But when Elsa asks the nurse whether there’s a Jones in the hospital and she points down the hall, her heart steps up a pace.

She’s almost scared to go in – horrified how she’d almost just lost him, terrified to ever let him go again. Elsa says his injuries weren’t as major as the rest’s were, but it doesn’t stop her from worrying _something_ else is wrong _somewhere_ else. People don’t make it out of things like this normally, not without an emotional scar as deep as the fall they went through.

But Elsa leads her in anyway, and he’s _there_ and he’s _alive_ – he’s asleep, with tubes and wires and machines stuck into him, but he’s _alive_.

She doesn’t quite move exactly, Elsa having to be her guidance as she directs Emma towards the chair she pushed closer to his bed, before settling herself in one on the opposite side of him. She would be a wreck without her friend – already _is_ a wreck, but she probably wouldn’t be able to function at all – and she manages to show her gratitude with a hummed _thank you_ before her eyelids get too heavy and she’s falling asleep.

She wakes abruptly, her subconscious mind sensing something, but when her eyes reopen, it’s still as quiet as it was when she’d arrived. The beeping sound of the machine is a reassuring noise, telling her he’s alive and that he can make it out of this as well, but she doesn’t have any clue what he’d make it out as.

Scooting closer to him, she runs her hand through his hair, up until where his head is covered in bandage and _God, what happened out there?_

His left arm, the side Elsa’s on, is held by a sling, and she wonders which one of the others had to pop his shoulder back into place. They say his foot was crushed, and at the sight of the massive bump from the cast on his leg, she prays they’d managed to salvage it.

“Please be okay,” she whispers, her lips pressing softly grazing the overgrown stubble over his cheek. “I love you, so you have to be okay.”

Emma sits back, the silence a dark noise she indulges in, her eyes stare blankly at his pale face as she curls into herself. It’s a cold night in the middle of June and if this isn’t some form of pathetic fallacy the Universe is trying to get her to see, she doesn’t know what it is.

When his eyes open, ten minutes, half an hour, two hours later – _she isn’t too sure_ – she’s almost scared at the empty look he gives her, wondering whether or not whatever that caused his head to be bandaged made him forget.

“ _Emma,_ ” his voice comes out gravelly, and she reaches for the glass of water Elsa must’ve poured earlier and feeds it to him slowly.

“Hey,” she smiles, ignoring the crack in the single word, as her eyes well up.

“I’m sorry, love,” his voice shakes, breaths labored and she can almost already sense the tears that are coming, “I tried.”

She shakes her head, “It’s not your fault – none of this is.”

“The animals kept coming _, they kept coming_ ,” he repeats and she’s not too sure whether this is the medication speaking or whether he’d truly gone through such a horrific nightmare – _it’s the latter_. “I pushed, and _pushed_ – but they kept coming. I thought- I tried, but they wouldn’t leave August’s body alone, they just wouldn’t _leave_.”

Her heart stops at the revelation – it’d been August that was taken, but she doesn’t allow herself to break, _not yet_ , not in front of him.

“It’s not your fault.”

-/-

It’s a slow recovery but progress is seen. Ruby visits for a couple of weeks, taking up Killian’s old room, being in charge of watching him when Emma and Elsa are at work.

Liam had visited too, while he never stayed long, he’d come frequently.

(The first time he’d shown up at their door, he’d dropped his bags to his feet, pulling Emma into a warm hug both Jones boys are famous for, “Are you okay?” on his lips as he holds her tight.

“Are _you_ okay? He’s your brother, you shouldn’t be asking me.”

“He is my brother and I am okay, but he’s your – he’s your _Killian_.”

She wonders vaguely if it’s _that_ obvious to everyone _except_ him, but now’s not the time, and she just agrees because, “ _Yeah_ , he is.”)

He begins to get the light back into his eyes, actually starts to laugh like how he used to and the PTSD doesn’t hit him like how it’d gotten Jefferson. And she’s glad for it.

She only permits herself to breakdown for August _once_ – only at his funeral, and besides that, she keeps it in. She breaks the for his boy, though – the confused look on his face when he’d noticed that everyone was wearing black and couldn’t figure out why, looking up to his grandfather and asking why he’s crying. She introduces herself to them, though never once looking straight into his son’s eyes, the guilt from the relief she’d felt amplifying when she sees how they share the same face, telling his father that August was a good man and that he didn’t deserve any of this.

-/-

Three months after the crash, she finds them alone in the house, just the two of them. He’s the one to seek her out, limping on his left leg to her room and he falls next to her into her bed. It’s not a new thing – them lying in bed together, but it’s always been a harmless act, nothing but merely platonic.

But when he pulls her towards him and he presses his lips against hers hard, hints of a smooth tongue edging into her mouth this is anything _but_ platonic, and she’d be lying if she even said she thought about resisting.

Their clothes fall off slowly, each article landing in a heap on the floor next to her bed in a neat mess. His lips are soft against her smooth skin, pressing small kisses down her stomach, his hands setting trails of fire across her body.

She doesn’t let herself think of how this could ruin their friendship, especially doesn’t think about how much she’s been wanting this for so long, her eyes squeezed tight focusing on just feeling.

He tells her he loves her after, when they’re fatigued and sated and very much on the edge of falling asleep. She doesn’t say it back, because surely he knows that she’s loved him for so long with all her heart, turning in his hold to press a lingering kiss to his lips, watching as his eyes shut and listening to his breath evening out, sleep claiming her soon after.

-/-

(But he doesn’t know, of course. Then, too tired to ask, and now, too late to fix.)

-/-

It’s eight years since the start of it all and they’re down to two.

They go about their days as normal as they can, and she knows he’s avoiding the exact topic she’s itching to talk about. But they’ve been friends long enough for her to know when he needs his space and when she needs to put her foot down.

The blonde hair and the pretty eyes are often misleading, most thinking she’s just that sweet resident everyone can push around, but she’s an attending now and she’s in charge of people, and when needed, she _can_ put her foot down and she _can_ raise her voice.

So after the first few months of Killian avoiding one conversation in particular, either with averted gazes, faked phone calls, or changing in topic, she plants her foot to the ground.

“Look, you can’t avoid it like it didn’t happen – because it _did_ and we have to either move on from it, or we can just leave it hanging like none of us are bothered by the Goddamned elephant in the room,” she snaps after he ignores her, increasing the volume of the tv in an attempt to drown her out. His eyes are wide and his head’s jerked back, and _good_ , she was hoping for the shock effect.

“I’d rather leave it hanging, love,” he mutters but she’s relentless.

“ _Goddamn it, Jones_!,” she shuts the tv off and pulls his face, forcing him to look at her. “You’re _hurt_ , you’re _angry,_ you’re _upset_ , and guess what? _So am I._ We need to talk because _I_ need to talk – it’s not just about _you_. So stop being so selfish and talk to me—“

“You want to talk about selfish?” he pushes himself to his feet, his eyes meeting hers, his voice a steady low, but she already anticipates it’s rising, “Emma—“ she ignores how his voice cracks at her name, he’s finally talking and she is far from willing to ruin his momentum, “ _Selfish_ doesn’t even begin to describe what she’s— She _left_ , Elsa – she left _you_ , she left _me_ , and I’m just supposed to forgive her?”

She watches as he deflates, the fiery blue in his eyes dying out as he drops his gaze, hand moving up to press on the bridge of his nose.

“She didn’t love me enough to stay.”

Elsa holds him, pulling him into an embrace, holding the back of his head steady against her shoulder. “She loved you too much that she needed to go.”

-/-

She thinks he doesn’t know, notices how she gets jumpy at even the mention of the subject. He’s known for over a week, of course – saw it lying on her bed as he dropped off her laundry in her room. But he doesn’t mention it, lets her come to him when she’s ready with a decision.

But she’s been fidgety for the whole of dinner and he can’t take it any longer.

“I know about the job offer from Hopkins,” he mentions, continuing to pick at his food. He lifts his eyes to meet hers and there’s a mix of relief and shock in it, “I know the pay’s amazing, and I also know that you should take it.”

“I just don’t want to leave you alone in—“

Killian chuckles, Elsa’s far too kind for this world, “I’ll be okay – and Scarlet and I seem to be getting along fine.”

“Oh, _punching_ him in the face is _‘fine’_? What do you boys do when you’re best _mates?_ Graduate to shooting each other?”

He gives her a humorless laugh, rolling his eyes, before switching staring a sincere look at her, “I’m serious – take the job. Hopkins is perfect for you. Their fetal surgery program – you’d do great.”

She considers his words, watching as her mind thinks of all her options, “You’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he smiles, and for a moment, he actually believes he will.

-/-

The initial plan was that she’d continue staying at their place while she transfers to Hopkins, but with things between her and Nurse _Hottie_ ( _as the women begin calling him, ever so obnoxiously – honestly, why him? Why doesn’t_ he _get a nickname for himself?_ ) begin to grow more serious, he doesn’t feel he has the place in asking her to stay.

But her new place is strategically close to his, and they get lunch together every few days and go for morning jogs at the nearby park every other Sunday.

And it isn’t quite lonely, not with both Alice and Will as his new roommates ( _he can’t afford the place on his own_ ), and especially now that Lexie ( _it’s a cute name for a cat, okay_ ) had given birth to a litter of a mix of black and white kittens.

He’s okay, or at least, he’s getting to okay, but the point is that he’s getting there and while the love he still feels ( _of course he_ still _does_ ) for Emma remains as strong as the very first day, it doesn’t hurt anymore.

They’re not _them_ , but he’s beginning to allow himself to actually befriend people outside that small circle ( _that just kept getting smaller and smaller_ ) of friends he’d made all those eight years ago. He tells himself it’s not betraying Graham, to hang out with Robin – it wasn’t the man’s fault anyway – but he can’t help but feel the smallest tinge of guilt when his smile is genuine at Robin naming him Roland’s godfather. But with that, at the obvious disappointment in Will’s face, a rush of pride rises with it.

It had even been his own idea in asking Will and Alice to move in with them, Will taking up residency in Graham’s old room ( _he tries not to flinch_ ) and Alice, in the end ( _after much of Killian’s convincing_ ), takes up Elsa’s.

He tries, _honestly_ , he does – goes out to the bars on Fridays, allowing his new found friends to attempt to set up blind dates for him – but the dating scene is still not where his head is at.

He tells himself it’s because he just hasn’t met the right girl yet.

He knows he’s lying.

He also knows that it’s because he _has_ met the right girl.

(And he’d just let her slip through his fingers)

So instead, he focuses himself on work, and with the resignation of the ever-frightening Cora ( _he still doesn’t know how she was in charge of the care for children for so long, since with just a look from her and he can feel his hair raising_ ), he’s made head of Pediatrics. And he’s doing well – working well with Mills – _the tension has_ kind of _eased_ – and he even smiles and waves at Milah in the hallways – that _, he is proud to say, is definitely_ no more.

Ruby checks in on him often, calling him every few days and while he doesn’t need a babysitter, he stays on the phone with her till the late hours of the night. He doesn’t quite hold it against her much like he did at the start – she’s happy there, and she’s doing good for herself and her practice is up and running and she’s now one of Chicago’s best plastic surgeons.

Things don’t change between him and Elsa, the two growing closer ever since the departure of Emma for he needs her as much as she needs him. He’s jumped into the whole _big brother_ role with her, having already given his speech to Aaron, making sure his intentions are right ( _even though they’ve been dating for more than over a year and that they_ are _living together already_ ), and while Elsa rolls her eyes in annoyance, he catches the hint of a smile.

It’s been seven months since Emma’s left, and seven months since they’ve talked. That doesn’t stop him from asking Elsa how she’s doing over in Minnesota and whether she’s happy or not, and he knows thanks to Elsa that she asks about him just as much as he does her. It gives him an odd sense of reassurance – that even with how things are, they have each other’s backs, and he’s honestly just waiting until he gains enough courage to ring her up himself.

He’s not there yet, but he can now say that he almost is.

-/-

Elsa was supposed to show up fifteen minutes ago, but the woman has a knack for tardiness, so he waits patiently in the living room, flipping through channels aimlessly. Five minutes later, he hears the stop of an engine and through his peripheral vision he sees a flash of blonde hair, so he leaps up from his spot on the couch and grabs the water bottle he’s got prepared for their run on the coffee table.

He swings the door open, “C’mon, love – we’re already late so no time for chit—“ moving to go through the entrance but when he raises his eyes to the person that’s blocking his way—

Her eyes aren’t blue, and her blonde is brighter than Elsa’s, and she’s definitely _not_ wearing running attire— _it’s not Elsa,_ is the point he’s making.

“ _Emma_?”

“Hi.”

-/-

It’s nine years since the start, six since Graham, five years from Ruby’s leaving, two since the plane crash, and one since she’d walked away.

And now she’s back.

Life in Minnesota wasn’t like she’d expected ( _not that she expected much),_ the whole idea of a _‘teaching hospital’_ apparently not quite her style. She expected an escape – a safety zone where she didn’t have to worry about the _Seattle Grace Curse,_ where she didn’t have to wake up to hear that yet another one of her friends are dead. But when she’d gotten there, everything had been _too_ safe.

It irked her how everyone knew everyone’s name, how the nurses and the doctors and the patients and the staff were all going by first name basis with each other. The whole idea of the place scared her, and the lack of much making her bored out of her mind.

Walsh Green was the Head of Cardio there, and _honestly,_ she swears she does _not_ have a thing for cardiothoracic surgeons, but there’s a lack of surprise when she falls into bed with him.  She didn’t actually _like_ him, it was just – it was easy to fall into casual sex after what happened with Killian.

So when she breaks off all relations in Minnesota, bracing herself to face him, she doesn’t expect his reaction _at all_. And it’s not that she believed they’d have some sort of _The Notebook_ reunion, where he’d be her Ryan Gosling and she’d be his Rachel McAdams, and she’d jump into his arms under pouring rain, leading to a wonderfully crafted make up sex scene – _no_. But when she’d arrived at his door ( _once upon a time she’d have said ‘theirs’, but the house is in his name now and she hasn’t the right_ ), she wasn’t expecting _this_.

She’s out of breath halfway through, her obvious lack of practice evident to both him and her, but she _did_ just come off a five-hour flight and going for a morning jog isn’t quite the way she saw things going.

He stops when they reach the bench shaded by the tree, and she knows he’s stopped for her, seeing as he’s barely even panting in the first place.

“So what do you want to talk about?” he asks, the back of his hand wiping the extremely thin sheen of sweat on his forehead away as he hands her his water bottle.

“Just-“ she lets out a long breath, standing doubled over trying to regain the composure she needs for this conversation, “Give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” he says and there’s no resent, no _nothing_ in his tone. He’s calm and he’s patient and he even smiles at her when her eyes look up to meet his.

“ _Right_ ,” she starts, taking a few steps back till she’s leaning her back against the bark of the tree, using it as support for she doesn’t think her legs can manage. “I just I want to explain, you know? Give you the reasoning you deserved for the past year and the apology that’s been pending ever since. I- I just –”

His arms are folded, but it’s not in an act of defense, not with the way his eyes stare ever so understanding at her, not with how his lips are turned upwards just a hint. “Elsa explained, you know – I understand,” he nods. She shakes her head, wondering how his patience knows no bounds, how his kindness goes no limit, “It scared you – how August died, how Graham died, even how Peter died. I don’t blame you.”

“That’s not—I mean, _yeah_ , I _was_ scared – but it was- it wasn’t for me,” she shakes her head, unable to form her sentence, “I thought I lost you – they told me there was a death and I thought it was you. And do you know how _guilt-ridden_ I’ve felt, thanking God that it was August instead of you? He was my friend I was glad he died because of _you_. I couldn’t even look his son in the eyes because of how _relieved_ I was, and I couldn’t stick around, waiting for the other shoe to drop – for some freak accident to get you, for some mad man to come and shoot you – I couldn’t just wait around for that to happen, _not_ with you.”

“ _Emma_ … I’m not going anywhere—”

“You say that but you never know. I _love_ you, I have _always_ loved you and I’ll probably always love you –” she confesses, the weight of all the words being lifted off her chest, and never has she felt this _light_ in _years_ , “And I was a coward to say it back then ‘cause I thought the moment I’d say the words – the Universe would screw things up for me, and then you’ll be gone. So I left because I couldn’t take it, and it was selfish and you probably hate me and—”

She feels her back being hit against the rough bark of the tree, the force of his lips strong and hard against hers. His hand is rough in her hair (and somewhere in the back of her mind, she’s self-conscious about the sweat on her skin, but with him moving his lips like that), hers replying in equal fervor. Their bodies are flush against each other’s and if she’d said that _this_ she didn’t expect, she’d be lying.

His nose bumps against hers as he shifts angle, his hand directing her to turn her head and she’s weak to protest.

When he draws back, she shamelessly tries to chase his lips, but he refuses, pressing his forehead to hers.

“We have one more year until we turn thirty-five,” he’s as breathless as she feels and that makes her smile, “What say you we actually date before we jump to marriage?”

A soft chuckle escapes her lips, and her eyes watch as a smile graces his, “Then I’d say you should ask me out.”

“Good, ‘cause I was just getting there – Will you go out with me?”

She doesn’t reply him, pressing her lips against his instead as an answer.

This time though, he gets it.

-/-


End file.
